Cursed Paintbrush
by Envious Sloth
Summary: Following the events of "A Painting's Demise," Mary finds herself in another world, left with only a paintbrush, a canvas, and her thoughts. However, that paintbrush is special: it can make the paintings live. With her dreams and this paintbrush, she hopes to meet them once again.


Within her hands, she held a paintbrush, hoping for a better world to be drawn on the canvas in front of her. How long has she been dead? How long has it been since she has left the gallery on her own, leaving those two behind? Mary didn't remember. All she knows now is that she was under a bright blue sky and in a shiny meadow that seemed far too surreal. Her painting even seemed different. After all, the artstyle was absolutely different from the childish paintings that she used to draw back in the gallery. It was as though she had depicted a window into another world: a world where people had each other to live for, to live with, to work for, and more; a place where instead of grass there were concrete floors and the days were sometimes gray and rainy.

It made Mary wonder why she had to be placed here after she was gone from the world. All alone. Of all places, it would have been nice if she could live on the other side of the canvas before her — but she couldn't. She was stuck here, in the boring world where all she could ever do is dream, paint, and live on. She continuously questioned herself why she couldn't have just stayed with Ib and Garry back in the Doll Room. It would have been nicer, right? With her other painting friends along with Ib and Garry, every day would have been nicer, playing games together and doing the same thing she does in this world. And yet, it felt so different. She regretted it so much, and it did not help very much when she watched through the mocked-up window in the canvas to see their status.

Ah, yes. Mary was still concerned about the two, worried that they too, like her father, would disappear. On one of the canvases she painted, she tried to remember what the Doll Room looked like when she last saw it. (Much to her dismay, it seemed that no matter how terribly she drew, the whole imagery would look normal and realistic.) So there the two people continued to sit: they were always sleeping whenever Mary found them. It made her happy though because at least they wanted to at least stay with her in her world, but she couldn't reach them. One time during a night of insomnia, she had tried reaching through that canvas to them, but she just felt the roughness of the canvas and the smooth feeling of dried against her fingertips. That same night, she had cried herself to sleep, hoping that one day she wouldn't have to be so alone.

So, here she was, back to sitting outside of her tiny, yellow, one-story doll house, preparing to draw once again. The feel of smooth wood from the paintbrush was gripped by her pale hand. In the other hand, she held her palette of many colors to draw for the first time since she came: a human. It is true that that paintbrush had done many marvelous things in the past, making everything seem so real, so perhaps she could be with them again soon by bringing them to the world she now lives in. Thoughts of doubt filled her mind as she began how will she care for them in such a small house. That's where she began to paint away.

Throughout the course of the day, she had created a bigger dollhouse using the paintbrush (the paintbrush could only make things that you wish for in the current world to come to life. You may want to enter the other world, but as said, that would be impossible.) She had also drawn a forest for the three to play in one day. During nightfall, she moved herself inside the new house into the main room where the kitchen and dining room were. With her melting candlelight by her side, she was able to paint her friends back in the gallery: the headless statues of red, blue, and yellow, the ladies who wore the same colors, the mannequins, (the one she'll never forget) the blue dolls with red eyes, and more. The whole process of dipping the brush into the drips of paint and making sure the drawing was accurate as can be (she wanted to do her best to make it look good, despite how it will result regardless of effort) left her feeling exhausted.

"Don't worry," she whispered weakly as she held onto one mannequin's head, caressing it, "I'll bring them to us tomorrow." Her eyelids grew heavy, causing her to go to sleep after she had finished drawing the wheel of the Juggler's unicycle.

The following day was a big day for Mary. It was the day that she will finally meet Ib and Garry and play with them forever. Because she slept really late, she felt that she too woke up late, causing her to fling herself out of her bed. When she had gotten outside, she noticed that the sky was still as blue as ever just as it was yesterday, possibly even brighter. The time didn't matter to her this time. What mattered was her two projects of the day. Like yesterday, she would have to draw them out. So she did, starting with the red eyed girl.

From the art set that came with the doll house, Mary took out the deep red tube of paint that she had first used while recreating the Lady with the Red Umbrella. After unscrewing the cap off the paint tube, she squeezed the runny paint onto the palette and went straight to painting out the picture,starting with the skirt oddly enough.

Time had passed and she finished a perfect drawing of Ib: her red eyes matched the color of her skirt and her dark brown hair flowed like the patterns of bark upon an oak tree. She was perfect in Mary's eyes. However, her eyes did not reflect the light that would hold life. It was only dull. Mary looked down in thought of how she can possibly make Ib respond to her, touching the canvas that held her friend.

Turning toward the small stool that had her tools set upon it, she scrounged for something that would give her an answer to this slight trouble. She made the process to touch everything in the box, hoping that it would give her a burst of ideas by looking and feeling it. Finally, she felt a sudden cold surface touch her pale hands which made her get the chills. Pushing some crayons that covered it, she found a small scissor. She had almost forgot about the small scissors that she actually used the day before to cut out the mannequin heads and headless statues. So, here it was again, ready to be used once more to cut out her friend - Ib, with her dull and glassy eyes. Mary went straight ahead into cutting her out _carefully _in fear that she would ruin any part of her friend and make her cry.

When she had finished cutting her out, the rough paper that held her friend's image, became more realistic. The young girl was not flat on her side. She was just as Mary had remembered her, or rather last saw her back in the gallery through the canva window. The blonde girl gave out a bright smile towards the girl with syrup colored hair.

"Ib!" She cheered the girl's name as she rushed to give her a hug. It has been quite some time since she had actually felt another person's presence. From this, Mary had felt some tears welling up in her eyes, despite the happy feelings. She felt that there was something that was stopping her from believing it in her eyes: something that was so obvious to her, but she shooed those thoughts away. Mary let go of Ib and continued looking at her for a bit until she spoke up again.

"Ib!"

"Yes, Mary?" This was the first time Ib spoke to Mary in a while. It was just like Ib to speak almost like a parent to a child; she was such a mature girl for her age.

"Ib! Wanna play with me and my friends?" She pulled at Ib's hand towards the dollhouse and away from the canvases,where Ib was drawn out of and where another will be drawn out of eventually. Ib gave a small smile, looking at Mary's enthusiasm.

"Okay!" She said in a sing-song tune. Mary giggled and ran with Ib to the dollhouse, where they had spent time playing together. They played pretend in many different scenarios: family, tea party, and celebrity. Mary kept drawing out props for both of them to use to make it seem more realistic. For example, for the tea party, she had drawn loads They played each scenario for such a long time until both grew tired.

Mary looked out the window of the dollhouse, only to see that the sun was still up. She began to yawn and soon the sun seemed to set. Turning to Ib, she looked at how she didn't seem tired whatsoever. In fact, she seems more refreshed than anything.

"Hey, Ib? I'm kinda tired. Let's go to bed, okay?" By this time, the moon was finally up leaving the room in the dark. Ib took off the floppy, white, wool hat that she used to pretend she was a celebrity with Mary. She then smiled and nodded, which caused Mary to take Ib to another room in the dollhouse.

The new room had walls were painted a color of candy pink and a ceiling of milk white. The decors (well, besides the sculptures that stood against the same wall where the entrance is), too, were white, but were more of a chiffon color. This included the shelves where many books were organized and cute knick-knacks were placed, such as a cute sculpture of two white doves nestling together as they were cupped by the nest they called home. The lighting of the room was dim, however, as a single butterfly of fire was the only source of light in the room, as it served as a fire upon a candlestick that was set on a drawer between two beds.

Mary's yawn was a long, loud, but transient sound that broke the silence. She led Ib into the room and smiled weakly.

"Okay, Ib! So, which bed do you want?" She stood between both beds and gestured to each. It was an odd question, considering both looked the same, but Mary wanted to be courteous to her friend. Ib remained silent though. Of course, she was thinking, but by her face expression, it seemed as though all she was doing was staring blankly at Mary.

"I'll take the one to the right." She automatically headed for the bed and sat, never taking her eyes off of Mary. Mary looked down at her dress before looking back at Ib.

"Say, Ib?" The blonde's blue eyes darted towards the sculptures that stood against the wall. "Are you… happy?"

" Of course!" Ib gave out a small giggle before laying herself on large, frilly pillow. "I'm happy when you are happy, Mary!" Mary was rather stunned by the comment but it made her heart fill with glee and her cheeks red. She jumped into her own bed and covered herself with her sheets. Looking over at Ib, she whispered, "Good night!" Then, the light grew dim so they may dream.

The following day, they both had woken up to a fairly normal day. Today was also the day where Mary was to finish her final piece of art, and with Ib's help, it may even be quicker than it was with Ib. Yet again, _he _was really tall so there was more to draw than Ib. To be honest, Mary didn't have the slightest urge to draw Garry. In fact, she didn't exactly like him. Back at the gallery, all she wanted to be with was with Ib, but Garry had to come along and act as a wall between her and Ib. So then, why does she want to draw Garry, of all people? She didn't have the slightest clue. Perhaps, it was to make Ib happy as they met each other first before encountering Mary. Perhaps, there was a part of her that wanted to see Garry again and start all over with a brand new friendship. _'No way,' _she kept telling herself. _'If it weren't for him, Ib and I would be together in the other world — not the gallery or here.' _And yet, she was still planning on how exactly to draw him.

She, along with Ib, now faced the large canvas where he was to be drawn on. Mary wanted Ib and her to draw him together. Through the process, they disgorged large amount of violet paint onto the palette and even accidentally on themselves. Sometimes, they would splash themselves with berry blue, fern green, eggplant purple, and tawny brown, whether it was out of fun or mere luck. And through all their laughter and play, they manage to draw Garry. Ib drew him smiling, just as Mary did with Ib. The two also helped cut Garry out of the canvas so he may join the other two. Then, there were three people who lived inside the dollhouse.

Many days have they spent together playing and drawing to their best of abilities. Each day, they would wake up happily, knowing that everyday would be an amazing one. There were many things that they did: for example, in the forest nearby, they tried picking some fruits and looking for animals to play with. They played pretend just as before and hide-and-seek. It was unbelievable how perfect their world was. And yet, today seemed so different. Something inside of Mary had changed just as how the day turned to night whenever Mary felt tired. It was not quickly though that she felt it. It sort of grew as playtime continued. Had it been the fact that sometimes Garry would be too parental? Had it been the fact that Mary feels that she keeps dragging Ib around, never asking her what she wants to do? What was it that ever made her feel this way? Had she known, Mary would have ended it so she can remain happy.

Today was the day that they decided to go fishing in a nearby lake. This lake was very solemn in state, never did it waver and never did reflect the light that was above it. The navy blue waters were still and seemed to calm one's self if he or she ever stared into it. Surrounding it were bare lands of sand, tall grass, and cattails. Between the cattail bunches was a single dock where a boat should have been, but Mary presumed that it could have sunken away long ago. Upon the wooden boards of the dock sat the fisherman that she knew is working for the sake of his family. It was almost like she was staring at panels of memories from her creator, but all she did was moved her attention away from the fisherman and continued walking between Garry and Ib.

Pouting, Mary gripped the red fishing pole tighter, annoyed that it was so quiet.

"Aren't you guys excited to go fishing?" Mary wondered. Simultaneously, Garry and Ib both turned their heads towards her.

"Why, of course, Mary! Although, will there really be fish in the lake?" Garry's soft-toned voice spoke hesistantly.

"Well, duh!" Mary argued with Garry, "That's why there's a fisherman over there." She pulled Garry down as she pulled him closer to the shore. Pointing at the fisherman, she turned back to Garry. "See? If he's fishing, then there's got to be fish there!" The elder sighed and smiled at Mary.

"Sorry, sorry," he looked away. Mary began a little laugh and tugged at Ib's white sleeves.

"Ib! I think Garry's scared of fish. What a poopy-head!" Ib smiled, never looking away from Mary. Garry, on the other hand, was left feeling glum, as they again began their walk towards the dock.

When they finally got to the dock, where the fisherman once sat, the trio had to relax for a bit before trying to set-up; or rather, Mary _forced _Garry to set up the fishing pole and the bait to be hung on the crescent hook. In fact the moment they reached the supporting land of the dock, Mary threw the bucket full of worms and chum to Garry. Of course, Garry screeched and was once again left crying and being glum. While all this happened, Ib and Marry just laughed at him and sat down.

Eventually, Garry had finished setting up and he handed the pole to Mary before giving one to Ib. So, all three sat calmly together, side by side, legs dangling off the dock pointing down into an abyss of the unknown.

It was quiet, so to speak, and it made Mary uncomfortable. By this time, she had expected Garry or Ib —mainly Garry — to start talking about something — but nothing. That's when she realized what was wrong: the thing that was bothering her, like a pest of worry or discomfort worming inside her chest. It wasn't until now that she realized that _she _needed to start the conversation. It was a simple thing, yes, but it was more than that. The blonde began to dive further into her mind, thinking back on all they have done since she had first helped them out of the gallery. She knew there was something wrong with the Garry and Ib she was with now. Was it the way they looked? Was it the way they were acting? Was it the way that their eyes were always shrouded by the same colors of dark red and dark gray, no matter how bright the sun is?

Ah, that was it. There was something queer about their eyes. Their eyes were basically voids of colors that she had used to draw them

_Draw them. _That was the trigger word that caused Mary to understand _everything._ It was because of Mary that anything happened in this world. It was because of Mary that the trio did everything and talked. It was because of Mary that she was able to get Ib and Garry to be here with her.

_Blump. _The sound of Mary's pole dropping into the water. None of the two made any response. Mary got up from her sitting position and backed away cautiously from the Ib and Garry she was with now. Her brilliant royal blue eyes were reduced to eyes of fear and realization. She didn't want to accept the truth. She thought she had brought them back to live together. She thought this would save her from a long-term loneliness, but no, it never did. She was always alone from the start. Like figments of her imagination, Garry and Ib — no — these _paintings _are frauds. Nothing but replicas of the real Garry and Ib.

The time began to change into a sickly autumn, where the heat of the afternoon and had her sick. She felt disgusted. Balling her fist, she ran ahead towards dock and pushed the blue stranger into the waters. Rejecting the fakes, she cried for the real ones as she erased away her creation. What made it worst is that "Garry" didn't even make a sound when he fell in, letting himself get swept away by the waters and taken farther down into the abyss. _Fakes. Fake. FAKES. _

"YOU ARE ALL FAKES!" Mary screamed as she lifted her head and cried in anger. "YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE FAKES!" Mary threw worms and fish parts out of the bucket into the water before kicking the bucket away. As she breathed quickly and heavily, she turned to the little red stranger who still remained sitting still despite the events around her. That's when her tantrum stopped. Mary began to hiccupped from her crying, wondering if she should dare push what she always thought to be her friend into the waters. She closed her eyes and turned her head, lifting one leg and pushed against the fishergirl, causing a large splash in the water. Opening her eyes, she found "Ib" was gone. There was no drowning noise or a voice of questioning against her. No sweet voice to cause her to hesitant. Nothing. She was just left with the beautiful scenery of the lake and the dock she stood on.

Her knees began to weaken and she fell harshly onto the wooden dock. Though she was pained in the knee with splinters of wood, that only added to the pain that she faced inside her heart. Overall, she crumpled onto the floor, crying away for her loss and loneliness. Mary was left with no one. She had always been like that, even with the two strangers. In the end, she only caused pain to herself, trying to dream. Why did dreaming for the better hurt? She questioned herself as she continued to cry loudly. All she wanted were friends, and yet, she suffered another loss of her friends. A familiar feeling that she felt when she lost her creator. That same feeling when she had made it out of the gallery, only to faint, finding herself here. So alone she once again was as she cried upon the dock and tired herself out.


End file.
